Where Are They Now?
by Pharoah'sCat
Summary: So, where did the men of the 12th Precinct end up after the building was sold and they were all re-assigned? In some ways, this is Barney-centric, but pretty much the whole gang makes an appearance.


Where Are They Now?

So, where did the men of the 12th Precinct end up after the building was sold and they were all re-assigned? In some ways, this is Barney-centric, but pretty much the whole gang makes an appearance. As ever, not my characters...all the product of the great Danny Arnold.

_Author's note: The 'Now' in Where Are They Now, is not the 'now' of 2019, but refers to the time period 5 or 6 years after the 'Old One,Two' closed up shop._

They went their separate ways.

For instance… Inspector Lugar actually was, finally, forced to retire; kicking and screaming the whole way. He and Perlita used his considerable savings to buy a small apartment in Chelsea and a smaller beach house out in Far Rockaway, where Lugar was happily surrounded by a lot of other ex-cops; a whole new audience for tales of Brownie, Foster and Kleiner. (Of course, less happily for him, Lugar had to listen to similar tales from his new neighbors. Fair is fair.). He even learned to enjoy surfcasting. Sort of. Perlita was happy whether in the city or on the shore.

"Lil Levitt", or "Lil Sergeant", as he finally became, stayed on the force for a few years. But he met a very attractive… and petite… young woman at a NYPD softball game. She was there with her father, a NYPD retired detective, who now owned a small, but growing private security company. More or less simultaneously, Levitt married the boss's daughter, quit the force and became Assist. General Manager of "Blue Shield Security, Inc." He was actually pretty good at his job. He had absorbed more personnel management techniques from Barney than he knew.

Arthur Dietrich. As ever, nothing with Dietrich was ever simple. He left the police force a year or so after the precinct closed. Partly because his new squad mates were less good at dealing with someone "raised by wolves," but mostly because his inherent intellectual restlessness pulled him in yet another different direction. This time, quite literally; he spent well over a year in Nepal, India and Japan, absorbing as much eastern philosophy as his not inconsiderable brain would allow. He was recruited by the CIA, spent about 10 minutes working for them, and then circled back to New York where he obtained a position as a semi permanent guest instructor at The New School, lecturing on a variety of topics. His most popular class was, "Goethe and The Buddha; Conflict or Comity?"

Ron Harris, did indeed resign from the force rather than be transferred to Flushing Meadow. And, as he wrote more, he began to have more success. Not novels, but nonfiction pieces; interviews and profiles for magazines such as Esquire, Jet, Rolling Stone, and even The New Yorker. Eventually he packed up and moved to Los Angeles, hoping to sell screenplays. He had little success in that endeavor, but continued his career as a feature writer. He had never gotten back to the level of notoriety and potential best seller status of "Blood On the Badge," but he did take satisfaction…and a decent financial reward….from his work. Like Dietrich, he never married, but then again, like Dietrich, he never lacked for female companionship either.

Wojo's next two years were probably the most complicated of anyone's. It quickly became clear that he and the Canine Division were not a good fit, so he transferred out and was assigned to a precinct on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, where he worked with a reasonable degree of satisfaction, but little if any chance of rapid promotion. His personal life, though, move forward in quick time. First, he started dating Alice Grant, former Army soldier and erstwhile prostitute, who he had once arrested. Their relationship flourished and they decided to marry. As they had grown closer, Wojo had told her about his sterility. She was taken aback but said she loved him and they would work out a way to have a family. Which is where Wojo's life took a very big turn.

* * *

The more they thought about and read about it, Wojo and Alice decided that they wanted to at least try the sperm donor route. And the more he thought about that, Wojo became increasingly convinced that he did not want an anonymous donor; he wanted Barney. He knew that Barney would never agree if he asked him, (their exchange in Barney's office when the topic had first come up, was evidence of that), so Wojo pulled an end run; he contacted Liz Miller.

It was not an easy conversation. First, he had to contact Liz behind Barney's back. She couldn't imagine what he wanted when he called but agreed to see him for lunch in a local diner out of affection for the men of the 1/2. Then Wojo had to tell her about his sterility. Awkward. (He had thought Liz might already know, but she told him that though Barney shared much about the good, the bad and the weird in the precinct, he would never violate a fellow officer's privacy.).

Wojo explained that he was getting married and he and his future wife wanted to start a family. He then took a very deep breath also explained that he wanted Barney to be the sperm donor. "I've thought it over for a long time…ever since I found out I was sterile, actually; even before Alice and I decided to get married." He took a deep breath, as he saw Liz's face. She looked, if not shocked, then something very close to. But he pressed on.

"I learned more from Barney than any other person in my life. Including my own father. I would really love to see my kids have the kind of…"even though he had prepared his pitch to Liz, Wojo still searched for the right word…"the only word I can think of is 'compassion.' And," he hurried on before Liz could interrupt, "I don't just mean 'nice guy' sort of stuff, but real compassion and empathy." "And," he continued in a rush, "He's tall…just about my height and he has brown eyes like me…and…". Wojo gradually ran out of steam. Liz was, by this time, looking at him as if he was out of his mind. But he gathered himself for one more final push. "And its not like we would be hanging around the city…Barney …or you… would never have to see the kid. I have taken a job with the Buffalo Police Dept.; promotion and everything. So, we could be out of sight/out of mind."

Now it was Liz's turn to take a deep breath. "Stan… I don't even know where to begin. Believe me… I do empathize with your situation. I quite like having Barney as MY kids' father. But it's not as direct a transfer of personality, as you seem to think. Look at David and Rachel. They are their own people …different from either Barney or me; very different in some ways. Babies don't come into this world as carbon copies of their parents; physically, let alone in terms of character or personality. There are so many factors beyond biology that determine any child's being."

"I know...I do. But, ok, like David and Rachel…so David sorta looks like Barney…but different too. And …I don't know…he is kind of"…and here Wojo struggled yet again for the right word until Liz finally rescued him. "An absentminded professor?" she said with a resigned smile. Wojo took the lifeline. "And that's not you or Barney, right? But his sense of humor is a lot like Barneys, isn't it? And Rachel…she looks more like you …and those couple of dates with her she is, well, I don't know how to put it exactly, but she is… I dunno…more realistic…maybe even tougher...in a GOOD way … but she LISTENS the way Barney does. So I get it; it's not just turning out cookie cutter babies. But is just seems like some thing of the parents always come through."

"The idea of having a stranger be the sperm donor, well it just makes me really uncomfortable. Actually, It breaks my heart," he added softly. "But if it was Barney, I could do it…we could have a family that way."

And now, Wojo played what he hoped was his trump card; his only card really. "And besides, can you honestly tell me that you don't think that the world can use all of the Barney Millers it can get - even if it is just bits of DNA?"

Liz, tried again. "That's very good of you to say, but…Barney is a product of HIS parents and, at least as importantly, his upbringing and…" but here it was her turn to stumble to a stop. Because, actually, she DID think that; that the world could use more Barney Millers. She and Barney had both wanted more children, but three miscarriages and a very difficult pregnancy and birth with David, and their doctor had strongly urged them to enjoy the two they had and not press their luck.

Yes, she and Barney had had their problems over the years, as in any relationship. He drove her crazy at times, (as she did him); he could be infuriating and exasperating in so many ways. But beyond loving him dearly, Liz, in some objective part of her mind, knew that he actually WAS an extraordinary person… in his own everyday sort of way. And if no one could guarantee his gifts of patience, tolerance and empathy would be passed down, well, no one could say that they WOULDN'T be.

Wojo could sense her weakening. "And you know, when he first said no…."

"Wait, wait"…she interrupted…"you already asked him and he said no!?

"Yes, but," Wojo hurried on, "that was when I first found out and it was all so new…to all of us."

"Stan, honestly, I don't know why you think I can make him change his mind about something…well…something like that."

"I don't know either," Wojo admitted. "But I do know that you are the only chance I've got. Just say you will try," he pleaded.

Liz could only nod.

* * *

Her conversation with Barney did not start out well.

"First of all, he had NO right to come to you!"

"No right," Liz responded indignantly, "Stan has every right to talk to whoever he wants about whatever he wants."

"Not about this, he doesn't. This is something he wants from me. And why he is so fixated on me is a mystery."

"Oh, Barney," Liz said with some asperity, "don't be purposely dense. Stan loves you. You know that perfectly well. AND, more to the point, he admires and respects you. As a policeman and a person. I should think you would be honored."

Barney just stared at her, utterly exasperated. "Honored' isn't exactly how I am feeling…trapped would be more like it. It's crazy. I mean, I can't ever see myself ignoring a flesh and blood kid of mine. I just can't."

"Well, first, Stan and Alice will be in Buffalo. We need never have contact with them, and we don't…won't…KNOW that this will even work; that there will be any baby at all."

"Even the possibility…" he shook his head.

"Are you sure there are no other 'possibilities' out there? That you have been perfectly content to ignore?"

"What!?" He looked genuinely shocked.

"So… the girls and women before me…you are 100% sure you never got any of them pregnant?"

Barney was about to sputter an indignant and loud 'no,' when his wife's expression brought him up short.

Quickly he went through a mental card file of those women who he had had sex with before Liz. It wasn't a particularly long list; he had never been anyone's idea of a 'ladies' man.' But it wasn't zero, either. Back in those days, he had always assumed if he had gotten anyone pregnant, they would have let him know. But was that necessarily true? Might there have been someone…his mind drifted back to a very independent law student a year or so older than he, with whom he had spent a delightful summer romance on the Jersey Shore involving a lot of sex, and, now that he thought about it, a fair amount of alcohol as well. He always used protection…with the law student as well as anyone else. Always? Maybe sometimes after a few too many beers in the hot sun…

"Pleasant memories?" Liz inquired innocently. She had to smile as Barney snapped out of his reverie looking more than a little flustered.

"Really, I am not trying to send you on a guilt trip. I knew you weren't a virgin any more than I was when we got married. It's fine and it is all a long time ago anyway. I am just trying to point out that there is at least the possibility…even if slight… that you have had a child out there somewhere and you have gotten along fine with that."

"Yeah, well, I never, or at least for a very long while, even THOUGHT about that."

"Exactly. And, with time, that is the way it will be with Stan and Alice. Maybe there will be a baby, maybe not; maybe they will end up with a different donor. Or maybe Stan's condition will be treatable at some point in the future. But if and when there is a baby and no matter how it is conceived, it will be a child loved and wanted very much. Which is the brass ring for any child."

Barney sighed. "You are impossible."

"Really, what's the big deal? It's a dirty magazine and a little cup. Actually, I hear that some clinics even play little films," she said cheerfully.

"Oh? How come you know so much about all this?"

"I have been doing a bit of research since I talked to Stan." She walked toward him and placed her hands on his chest. "I know…it seems little like some sort of science fiction…"

"Dr. Frankenstein," he interrupted.

"Hardly," she said with a smile. "And, the main thing I have learned from my research? The happiness this procedure brings to couples is a true gift.

It seem little enough to give that gift to Stan."

Barney surrendered.

And, a few days later, after Liz found out the clinic that Stan and Alice wanted to use, Barney, with the aid of a dirty magazine…alas, no film…handed a reasonably well filled cup back to the technician with an embarrassed shrug and left the clinic.

* * *

But speaking of Barney…what happened to him…besides a trip to a fertility clinic… after the 1/2 closed?

Unlike the others, he was not given a specific, immediate assignment. Just told to report to Manhattan South for deployment. They didn't seem to know what to do with him. So, they bounced him from precinct to precinct…specifically "troubled" precincts; those where there was suspicion of corruption, or excessive use of force, or featherbedding, or poor leadership, or all of the above. It was a disaster for one and all. Barney was never at anyone precinct for long enough to make a difference and his presence simply fed resentment.

It was so bad in fact that he seriously…VERY seriously… considered quitting the force. Liz crossed her fingers and said nothing. But, then Barney was called down to Police Headquarters and made an offer he couldn't…and didn't want …to refuse. He was offered a post in the Department's newly formed Special Operations Bureau; Emergency Services Unit. His particular skill set had been identified and he received training as a hostage negotiator specialist. Though, in fact, he handled many other situations...people threatening to jump off bridges, especially explosive domestic disputes, activist protests and sit ins, people in acute and public distress; anywhere the ability to listen and actually hear people in the very worst moments of their lives was needed. He quickly gained a reputation as among the very best at a very tricky job. As Dietrich put it when he heard of Barney's assignment, "Well, its kinda his thing, after all."

Liz of course, hated his new work. It was, she justly pointed out, even more dangerous than that of a detective. But she could also see that Barney loved his new job, perhaps even more than he loved being a precinct captain. So, again, all she could do was cross her fingers and hold her peace. And trust in luck and Barney's judgment.

A trust that was not misplaced. Barney had no intention of being either a hero or a martyr. He listened and learned well the tactics, strategies, and especially the precautions that came with his new duties. And took them all to heart and during his years with the ESU he was both effective AND cautious.

And then one day he was called in as part of a team trying to talk down two very high, (possibly literally), strung, and angry members of the IRA. They had come to New York as part of a complicated smuggling operation; guns, ammo, and blast components purchased (mostly) legally across the U.S. to be sent via Denmark to Northern Ireland in the bottom of crates of tool and dye equipment. But before the armaments could be hidden in the shipping crates, a tip had led the Special Operations Bureau to a warehouse on the Brooklyn waterfront where the two men were now barricaded inside. With, what was assumed to be enough explosive material to make a very large hole in the neighborhood. They also held a security guard and a longshoreman hostage. Each just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

The negotiations had been going slowly, but at least they had being going. (One of Barney's instructors at the ESU told him the job was just a heightened version of all other police work; hours of tedium interrupted by random flashes of terror.). Communications had been established and slowly…very slowly… Barney had been able to first learn the names of Shaun and Gerry, and then the names of the 2 civilians; Mike Costa and Paulie Perrone.

The UK and Irish governments had telexed what little they had on the two very young men, Gerry McCaffrey, 19 and Shaun Corrigan 17. McCaffrey had a couple of arrest for throwing rocks and bricks at UK soldiers, (along with everyone else his age in their neighborhood, the UK liaison said cheerfully). Corrigan's father was suspected of being be an IRA member, ('Along with everyone else, etc., etc." repeated the liaison with a somewhat grimmer smile.) Both men had been arrested for drugs.

Given the international flavor of the situation, the FBI was circling; but so far had allowed the NYPD to take the lead. The press was also being kept at bay; in truth there wasn't much to see or report on.

Barney was on the phone trying to talk to the Shaun…who, despite being the younger of the two … seemed to be the leader…into letting the two hostages go.

"Look, you'll still have your guns and enough explosives to blow us all up, so let Mike and Paulie go."

"No man, no way. We do that, and you come busting in here."

"With what? We have a shortage of tanks this week and whatever we do, you still can make everything go boom. Let them go. They are a liability…they'll get in your way." Suddenly, In the background Barney could hear what he was sure was a baby crying.

"Shaun," Barney said carefully, "Is there a baby in there with you guys?"

Silence.

"Shaun…c'mon man, talk to me."

Shaun let out a sigh of disgusted teenage angst. "Yeah…this ASSHOLE had his lady here for a little noon time shagging! Just stuck the kid in one of those stupid stroller things. I mean, just…YUCK!"

As a parent of a son fairly recently a teenager, Barney could easily visualize Shaun's expression of teen disgust. It almost made him smile. But there was no time for that. Two additional hostages, one a child, were making this an increasingly complicated and dangerous situation.

"Shaun, listen, what is the name of the lady and the baby?"

"What the hell does it matter?"

"Everyone gets a name Shaun. Everyone deserves a name."

Another sigh, heavy with teen resentment came through the line.

"Carla… she's a piece a work. A right tart." Shaun's editorial comments were followed by an exchange of insults and outrage…mostly in Italian. The baby cried even louder. "And Matteo."

"Shaun - listen to me - I haven't lied to you so far and I won't lie to you now; you and Gerry are in a tight spot. Getting out of there in one piece is going to be tough. But it is going to be impossible with civilians …including a BABY, Shaun… in there with you. The wrath of an entire city is going to rain down on you guys."

"Yeah? Well, you try anything and we'll take this whole fucking building…fucking BLOCK and fucking BABY… with us!"

"Sure…you can do that. But what good will that do? And what good will it do your cause? I can see the headlines now; "IRA punks kill baby." I don't know…maybe that sort of things plays ok in Ireland, but I can guarantee you, NOT here. Any support you have will dry up faster than spilled beer on the sidewalk in summer.

"All right…the kid and the tart."

"The other two as well, Shaun." Before the teen could refuse, Barney continued, "I am going to make you a deal Shaun, best deal you are going to get. You are going to trade me for the 4 civilians."

Shaun snorted in derision. "Just how stupid do you think I am? No way."

"I don't think you are stupid at all; as a matter of fact I think you are smart. Smart enough to take this deal."

Shaun started to interrupt, but Barney talked over him. "Listen to me, listen…1 hostage is easier to control than 4, it's as simple as that. You only have to keep your eye on one person, that leaves a lot of attention to focus on getting you out of there and getting you some sort of a deal."

"And, Shaun, here's the thing; the _only_ thing NY cops like more…cherish more… than babies, is _other cops._ If I am inside with you, you will have all sorts of breathing room."

"I gotta talk to Gerry," Shaun mumbled.

"Go right ahead…I'll be here."

The phone went silent. But Barney and the other cops listening in could hear murmured conversation in the background. Along with low level but persistent wailing from Matteo.

While they waited, Barney's supervisor shook his head. "Not happening Miller. Totally against department policy."

"Kick it up stairs, boss. I know I can get these kids out without anyone getting hurt…but first we've got to get the civilians out of the way…for everybody's sake. They are still just kids, but they are scared, stupid, and possibly on drugs. That's a time bomb waiting to go off and take all 4 with it. If I can get in there, I just know… I can sense…I can talk them down."

The supervisor sighed and walked away to a different phone.

Suddenly Shaun was back on the phone. "OK…but we do this OUR way."

"Fine…what do you want to do?"

"First, take off your jacket and shirt and roll up your pant legs. Oh, and un-tuck your vest. Make sure you got no weapons."

"Vest?" The British liaison helpfully translated to 'undershirt.'

As as he began to strip to his t-shirt and roll up his pant legs, Barney pointed out, "its not a very fetching look, but whatever you say."

"Chief says wait, Miller."

"No time…I need to get in there now, before they change their minds."

"Ok, Shaun, now what?"

"Hands clasped behind you head, walk slow to the door…stop when you get about 10 feet from it so Gerry can get a good look at you."

"Here I come." Barney walked slowly toward the door, hands clasped being his head.

The door creaked open and Barney had his first glimpse of Gerry McCaffrey, acne showing through unshaven scruff.

"Walk toward me…real slow."

"Nope," said Barney…"not until I see 3 adults and one kid, all in good health."

The hostage dance that now ensued was prolonged and unnecessarily convoluted, but in the end, Mike, Paulie, Carla, and Matteo - whose wailing had now been reduced to an exhausted whimper - came out, and Barney disappeared into the warehouse.

For the next hour or so, there was mostly silence from the warehouse. Twice Barney used the phone line that had been established to talk to the cops outside and report that things were 'ok.' During one communication he put Shaun on with a representative of the Brooklyn DA's office to assure them that they had a certain 'flexibility' when it came to pressing charges.

And then … well … no one actually knows what happened then. There was the sudden sound of gunfire…automatic weapons by the sound of it. The NYPD scrambled its' SWAT team to the door…but just as they were breaking it down, a voice came over the phone, sounding terse and rattled. "FBI agent Andrew Carlson; suspects neutralized. (Pause) Man down."

The NYPD swat team crashed through the door anyway. Inside they found Shaun Corrigan and Gerry McCaffrey, now deceased, lying in their own blood. Also on the floor, Deputy Inspector Barney Miller, NYPD. EMTs hustled in, but to no avail. All three were pronounced dead at the scene.

The news reported that Deputy Inspector Bernard J. Miller, after courageously exchanging himself for civilian hostages, had been gunned down by two drug addled IRA terrorists. And that agents from the NY offices of the FBI had, while under fire themselves, shot and killed the two terrorists. Sine die. (No pun intended.)

* * *

Of course, everyone came to the funeral. Harris flew in from LA and Wojo drove from Buffalo; Dietrich and Levitt, Inspector Lugar and Perlita. Lugar looked ashen with grief. But then, so did almost everyone. Chano Amenguale came from Puerto Rico where he was now a Deputy Chief. Phil Fish, looking still older and almost frail, came with Bernice. Uniforms who had worked with and for Barney for years showed up in droves, led by Kogan and Zatelli. Detectives who had only served at the 1/2 briefly attended; Wentworth, (now married to a fellow cop) Batista, and Dorsey. Even Barney's wannabe nemesis, Lt. Scanlon, was spotted, sitting at the very back of the Temple, hat pulled almost completely over his face.

And the civilians came as well; Bruno and Mrs. Bruno, Ray Brewer, looking a bit incongruous, but spiffy, in his Salvation Army uniform. Mr. Roth and Philip Lutheker; Marty Morrison and Darryl Driscoll, Rose of Washington Sq., and Stefan Koepeckne, (on his meds.). Elena Elezando and the Brauers. And so many more who had passed though the ½ when Barney was the Precinct Captain. In short, a gathering identified by what was to become a cliché, The Usual Suspects.

Ramon Santos, that drugged out young man who stole Fish's gun and held the squad room at gunpoint until Barney talked him down…he was there as well. His felony convictions prevented him from becoming a lawyer, but he was now an effective paralegal and translator for the Public Defenders office.

Liz most definitely did NOT want a big Blue Line funeral. No bag pipes…pointing out, not unreasonably, that Barney hated bag pipes. Wojo, Deitrch, Levitt, Harris, Chano and a close friend from his early days on the force, served as pall bearers. (Fish and Lugar desperately wanted to fill that capacity, but, given their age and relative frailty, more rational heads prevailed.)

After the coffin was placed on the hearse, there was some inevitable milling around on the sidewalk as people sorted out who was in what car.

Marty found himself standing next to Wojo. "The thing was", Marty said, fighting back tears, "Barney never called me, 'Marty, the Queer', or 'Marty the Fag Shoplifter'; or even 'Marty the Shoplifter.' I was always just Marty."

Meanwhile, Ramon Santos made his way over to where Chano and Harris and were standing. It took them both a moment to recognize the still young man in a 3-piece suit as the gun waving drug addict from years ago. He explained his steps up in life and then looked over at the hearse. "He just asked me my name…remember? He said, 'What's your name?' Such a simple question. Such an OBVIOUS question, but it made all the difference. I'd probably be dead if it wasn't for him."

Stefan Koepeckne was talking to Dietrich and the Fishes. "Remember when I thought I was a werewolf?" He laughed and shook his head. " I'll never forget when they came from Bellevue to take me away. I told him that they wouldn't be able to help me because lycanthropy was very rare. And he though for a minute and said, "Well, maybe that means they are making progress treating it."" Kaopeckne laughed again. "He was one of the only people who saw a person…and not just a condition."

After the graveside ceremony, most people went back to a NYPD function hall, where everyone milled about, taking up sandwiches and putting them back, half eaten, and talking quietly to each other.

Liz Miller was sitting in a chair, looking drained and bleak, as a series of people, many she barely knew, came to pay their respects. Wojo lingered in the background waiting for a break in the action. He saw Rachel ask her mother something and after getting a nod and a wan smile in response, Rachel left to get her mother some tea.

Wojo took his opportunity. Pulling up a chair he sat beside her. He knew he didn't have much time. Many others were waiting to talk to Liz.

"I wondered if you would like to see a picture of my son?"

Liz looked blank for a moment…as if she couldn't even imagine wanting such a thing, but suddenly she smiled at Stan.

"Yes, I think I would like that very much."

Wojo reached into his wallet and produced a picture of a young boy…about 3…with dark, curly hair, big brown eyes and a killer smile. He handed it to Liz. She almost gasped when she saw it…the similarity was so strong; it looked so like pictures she had seen of Barney as a child.

"What's his name?" she asked softly.

"Joseph…aka Mighty Jo." Wojo said with a smile. "Do you want to keep the picture?"

Liz hesitated for a moment, before handing it back. "No, I don't think so. But maybe every few years you could send me one?"

"Absolutely," Wojo said, getting up to give his chair to Rachel who had arrived back with the tea.

They nodded to each other as Rachel sat down next to her mother and Wojo made his way back into the crowd. "What was he showing you?"

"Oh, just a picture of his son."

"That seems a little … I don't know…just…bad timing. I am surprised at Stan."

"I didn't mind," said Liz as she took a sip of tea, " I was happy to see the picture. Very happy."

* * *

A week later, Wojo, Levitt, Dietrich, and Harris, waited for Lugar to join them at a diner not far the 1/2. Harris, who had been meeting with New York editors, was muttering about how he had postponed his flight back to LA for this meeting and Lugar better have more in mind than reminiscences.

The old Inspector didn't keep them waiting long. He sat down, accepted a cup of coffee from the waitress, and without preamble, passed each of them a single page, with the command, "Read it."

"What is it?" Levitt wanted to know.

"Just read." The inspector said taking a sip of his coffee.

It didn't take them long. Almost simultaneously, they looked up and at the Inspector. A variety of profanity and epithets spilled from them, including, but not limited to; "Jesus Mary and Joseph," those fucking bastards" "stupid, stupid, stupid," "those lying mother…."

Lugar said nothing. In the long pause that followed their outrage, Wojo finally said, "I knew it, I just knew it…Barney could have…WOULD have gotten everyone out. Except for the 'brains in their dicks, gunslinging, FBI. They fucking shot him in the back."

"Its like Ramon…remember?" Harris asked Wojo. "He was at the funeral. That kid that Barney talked down after he stole Fish's gun? You came busting through the door but Barney stayed between you and Ramon. And you didn't shoot."

"And those SOB's did." Wojo said softly.

Lugar, reached across the table to reclaim the papers, "That is the preliminary report summation."

"Where did you get it?" Dietrich inquired, handing his copy back to Lugar. "Friend of Barney's in the department?"

"Someone in the department…someone with 'connections'...but I am not sure you could call him a friend, exactly."

"We have to take this public," Harris said, firmly.

"Yeah," Levitt chimed in, "take it to the News or the Post. Or WNET!"

Lugar shook his head.

"Why not!" They all demanded, more or less in unison.

"Because," Lugar said with a shake of his head, "If we do that, both the department and the Feds will roll themselves into a defensive ball tougher and harder… and meaner… than one of those wolver things you see on the tv nature programs."

They all had to ponder that for a minute.

"You mean, wolverine?" Dietrich finally figured out.

"Yeah, yeah…wolverine."

"So, what?" Demanded Wojo.

"I'll tell you so what Wogee-O-Ho-Itz. They will go after Barney, his career, his reputation."

"Barney…well, the Captain"…which is how Levitt still thought of him…"I mean Inspector…he's…well, dead. How they gonna hurt him?"

"Well," the inspector said, "there was his stint in jail, his suspension for not booting those crazies out of that apartment, the way he 'delayed' obeying certain orders."

Before they could interrupt, Lugar went on, "Plus there is everything all of you got up to. The arrest, (looking at Dietrich), the publicity, (looking at Harris), and all the loony stunts you all pulled." (Looking at Wojo). They will spoon feed it to the press with the nastiest toppings they can come up with. They will destroy him to protect themselves. Feds and department both.

Levitt was deflated but persistent, "Yeah, but…"

"And then there is Liz and the kids. All the department can dig up or twist or make up will wash over them as well. They'll make sure the press finds out about the separation, and make it sound like something much more than it was…something shameful."

"Yeah"…said Dietrich with a sigh…."him staying at the Greenwich Hotel…a well known prostitute destination."

"And no matter whatever they can't find, believe me…they will." Lugar said sagely.

"He's right," said Harris in resignation.

There was another long silence. Broken again by Lugar, who now looked long and hard at Harris.

"Of course, just because something can't be written about in the newspapers, doesn't mean it can't be written about at all."

The Inspector slid a fatter folder across the table to Harris.

"This is the FULL preliminary report."

If Harris had been a cartoon character you would have seen a light bulb go on over his head. Then Dietrich's, then Wojo's and then Levitt's.

The five men paid the tab, shook hands and left the diner…each headed in a different direction…each into a different life. As Lugar turned onto 6th Avenue, he gave an almost imperceptible tip of his hat to a man who loitered on the other side of the street outside a bodega; a man who bore more than a passing resemblance to Lt. Scanlon.

* * *

Eight months later "Blue Betrayal" a novel, "based on a true story," by R. N. Harris, related the story of a sane, funny, compassionate cop fighting the good fight in New York City year after year, who found himself betrayed by the very people who were supposed to have his back; a betrayal that cost him his life. It was a best seller.

The end.


End file.
